


my teeth are sharpest (when I tear out the truth)

by angeoltaire



Category: The Order (TV 2019)
Genre: Feelings, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:14:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25199833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angeoltaire/pseuds/angeoltaire
Summary: Randall had panicked; of course he had panicked. The thought of losing his memories again - of forgetting about Greybeard, and the Knights, of forgetting Hamish - was too much to bear.So he'd acted impulsively. He'd done the thing he had wanted to do most, for as long as he could remember. He'd kissed Hamish.(Title is from the song "The Wolf" by Simple Creatures.)
Relationships: Randall Carpio/Hamish Duke
Comments: 7
Kudos: 210





	my teeth are sharpest (when I tear out the truth)

Hamish and Randall had kissed. 

Well, it wasn't as momentous as it sounded. Randall had kissed Hamish, because their monitors were getting suspicious. 

Randall had panicked; of course he had panicked. The thought of losing his memories again - of forgetting about Greybeard, and the Knights, of forgetting  _ Hamish -  _ was too much to bear. 

So he'd acted impulsively. He'd done the thing he had wanted to do most, for as long as he could remember. He'd kissed Hamish. 

The kiss was something  _ heavenly _ ; Hamish's lips were soft, and his hands were even softer as they'd cupped the back of Randall's head. It was perfect. Hamish had been smirking when he pulled away, and for a moment Randall had let himself believe it was real. 

They'd left the bar holding hands, giggling like they were fifteen again, and high-fived as soon as they got back to the Den. 

"Do you think we fooled them?" Hamish had chortled, throwing himself down onto the couch. 

That's when Randall crashed back down to Earth. Of course it was all for show.

Later, Hamish had told the other Knights: "Randall and I had to kiss each other to get away from our monitors."

It felt like someone had punched Randall right in the gut. 

"'Had to'," Randall grimaced. "We 'had to'." 

The Knights had laughed, and Randall had laughed with them. He'd suffered this for the last few months - one more day wouldn't hurt. 

The rest of the pack dispersed for the evening, and that's how Randall found himself alone, nursing a third drink that held as much vodka as it did coke. 

He jumped at the dull thud of the front door closing, and looked up to find Hamish stood, fiddling with the leather-bound book in his hands. 

"What's that?" Randall slurred, slamming his empty glass down onto the bar. 

Hamish looked up, and Randall's heart skipped several beats. 

"Just a journal I borrowed from the temple library. I thought I had better get reading up on the Order," he shrugged. "You know, if we're carrying on the facade for a little longer."

Reaching over the bar, Randall grabbed hold of the half-empty bottle of neat vodka, twisting off the cap and taking a swig. Hamish dropped the book down on the couch, and swiftly snatched the bottle from Randall's hand. 

"Not that one," he tutted, wiping the rim with the sleeve of his sweater and placing the vodka among umpteen other bottles of spirits. "That's Russian standard." 

"Not even good enough for your nice vodka," Randall sighed. 

"Glasses were invented for a reason, Randall." Hamish sounded tired. Randall knew all of this was taking a huge toll on their leader, knew that controlling his instinct to rip apart every member of the Order was especially hard for him. He could see the tension rippling through his shoulders, across his back. 

"Make us some cocktails then, fearless leader," Randall teased. 

Hamish took a seat beside him, bumping their shoulders together. "What's gotten into you tonight?" he asked, his tone now soft. It was moments like these, when Hamish was speaking to Randall with so much affection, that made Randall fall for him in the first place. 

The vodka had made his head too fuzzy, and though he had meant to keep his next words solely in his brain, he found them rolling off his tongue before he could stop them. "I think I'm in love with you."

He felt sick as soon as he said it. Hamish was…well, Hamish was his best friend. They'd been through so much together, in such a short time; they'd almost lost one another more times than they could count. Randall knew that he meant a lot to Hamish, but he also knew Hamish could never reciprocate his feelings. 

He buried his head in his hands, tugging at his dark curls. "Just forget I said that," he whined.

Randall felt gentle hands pulling at his own. Hamish laced his fingers with Randall's and brought their joined hands into his lap. He rubbed small circles against Randall's palms, in the way he'd learned grounded the other man. 

"Randall," he whispered. "Randall, say that again."

"I…" stammered Randall, tentatively raising his head until his eyes met Hamish. The taller man was looking at him curiously, wide-eyed and earnest. He didn't look horrified, mortified, or awkward; in fact, he almost looked hopeful. 

"I am in love with you," Randall repeated, his voice faltering. "Yeah…yeah. I love you."

Hamish leaned forwards, squeezing Randall's hands, and pressed a kiss to Randall's mouth. Surprised, Randall's breath hitched, but he parted his lips and kissed Hamish back with everything he had left. 

This kiss was nothing like their kiss earlier that day - this kiss was a  _ firework.  _ Both men gasped as they pulled apart, resting their foreheads together as they caught their breath. 

"When did you realise?" Hamish asked. "That you were in love with me?" 

Their kiss had sobered Randall tenfold. "When Kyle stabbed you with that magical blade. And you phoned me, and I didn't know if you would make it back home alive. I realised losing you would destroy me. And that I maybe loved you."

"Fuck," Hamish laughed drily. "That long? Randall, I'm so sorry, I should have said something." 

"There isn't much you can say, Hamish. I don't expect you to feel the same-" 

Hamish cut him off. "But I do. I hadn't really realised, before now. Before that kiss earlier. But I do love you, Randall."

Randall couldn't stop himself from smiling. "Well, shit," he breathed. "Can I, uh, can I kiss you again?" 

In lieu of an answer, Hamish kissed Randall, so hard and with so much passion that Randall almost tumbled off the bar stool. Hamish was at his rescue in an instant, hooking his hands under Randall's thighs and lifting Randall to sit in his lap. The stool creaked beneath their combined weight. 

"I don't think your fancy bar stools are designed for two people," Randall teased between kisses. Hamish hummed in agreement, lifting Randall with ease and carrying him over to the couch. 

They settled down and kissed for what felt like hours. Randall could feel his heartbeat in his throat the entire time, as if his heart was trying to beat its way out. 

"Randall," Hamish crooned, panting a little. "I love you."

Randall was sure he could hear that every day for the rest of his life and never get tired of hearing it. "I love you too."


End file.
